


PTSD Bros! *High-Five* (Or The Story of How Clint saved Bucky)

by WillowLong



Series: Adventures at the Avengers Tower [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Blow Jobs, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky Barnes Remembers, Clint Feels, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Masturbation, Mental Breakdown, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Clint Barton, Psychological Torture, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-30
Updated: 2016-06-05
Packaged: 2018-07-11 02:59:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7024696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WillowLong/pseuds/WillowLong
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Normally he didn’t mind Barton. Clint. If he were to be honest, he actually enjoyed being around him. He was the only one who didn’t walk on eggshells around him when he had first gotten to the tower.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. French Toast

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PlaidHunters](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PlaidHunters/gifts).



> This is definitely not complete. I'm not sure exactly where it's heading or how long so I will be adjusting the tags and warnings as I go. It was supposed to be a quick little writing but as I turns out, I love writing Bucky and Clint. All I can say for sure is that there is going to be lots of hugs and lots of pain. And I have no idea why it always does this to me, but it gets rid of all of my proper indentations so...forgive me. Tony/Bruce and Steve/Tasha/Sam will be a thing so I'm tagging it now.

Bucky knew today was going to suck before he even opened his eyes. He spent most of the night tossing and turning in and out of a restless sleep for what had to be the fourth night in a row. It wasn’t that the beds in Stark tower weren't the closest thing to heaven he was probably ever going to get; or that he had anything to fear while living in what could be only described as a fortress. It was the same reason Stark and Banner spent their nights huddled close in their respected labs and Steve and Sam ran laps for, God, hours. He never really knew what Natasha did but he heard Barton roaming the air ducts more than anyone should. 

‘Just a bunch of broken freaks. Ughhh I want french toast. And coffee. And a hug wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.’

“Jarvis?” Bucky’s voice cracked as he sat up and addressed the A.I.

“Yes, Mr. Barnes?” 

“What time is it? And do we have the stuff to make french toast?” He wiped his right hand across his eye, clearing them in an attempt to see the alarm clock on the desk near the door. He should really move that thing closer. 

“It is 6:17 A.M. We do have the ingredients needed to make french toast. Should I have it prepared for you?” 

“Nah. I think I want to do it myself. Is there anyone else up?” He swung his feet over the side of the bed, searching for his slippers. He’d learned early on that it was a bad idea to walk around the commons without shoes on. 

“Ms. Romanov and Captain Rogers were called away by Agent Coulson at approximately 4am. They should be gone no later than a day or so. Mr. Stark and Dr. Banner are working together in the Biogenetics lab and have asked not to be disturbed. Mr. Barton is still asleep in his room. Shall I wake him?”

“Oh, God no. Please don’t. It would be awesome if there was coffee made when I got downstairs, though.” 

“Of course, Mr. Barnes.” 

Bucky stared at himself in the mirror above the bathroom sink. His eyes surrounded by thick dark circles from nights of staring at the ceiling.He laughed dryly to himself at the sight. 

“I guess some things will never change.” He eyed the shower, mentally weighing the benefits of hygiene verses french toast. His stomach groaned at thankfully made up his mind for him. He scrubbed a wet washcloth over his face and tossed it at the hamper. Glancing in the mirror on last time he shook his head and headed for the elevator doors. 

When the elevator doors opened into the commons he was greeted by the comforting smell of freshly brewing coffee. 

“Jarvis, if you were real, I’d make a decent man out of you.” 

“Thank you, sir.”

He stepped out of the elevator and stopped in the doorway of the kitchen. 

“Pyshhh. If that’s all it takes, I can make you coffee.” Clint sat perched on the counter near the sink, coffee mug in one hand and what looked like the comics page in the the other. His dirty blonde hair sticking out on one side and a line on his cheek where it had been pressed against the wrinkles of his pillow. An old threadbare flannel robe was thrown over his shoulders and tied loosely at his waist. He uncrossed his legs and it soon became obvious that that in fact the ONLY thing he had thrown on before venturing downstairs. Bucky felt a jolt of embarrassment course through his stomach as he looked back up into Clint's sleepy eyed gaze.

“Your bare ass is on the kitchen counter. Where I make food.” The embarrassment was soon masked by anger at the thought that he had been cutting tomatoes on the same place as his housemate sat naked. 

“I’m clean!” Clint lifted the arm that held the paper and sniffed his armpit as emphasis. “Go ahead! Smell.” He held his arm out to Bucky who glared at him in return, balling the fist of his metal hand. 

“Aw come on, Terminator. Don’t do me like that.” He hopped of the counter and   
walked toward the dark haired man, full arms outstretched continuing in his best morning voice to sing Tom Petty. “Oh baby baby baby, don’t don’t...oh shit.” He dodged the punch just barely and managed to slip into the tv room only spilling a few drops of his coffee on himself. Bucky decided not to follow him. It was way too early for this.

“Jarvis, I thought you said he was sleeping.” Bucky glowered in the direction of the A.I’s control panel. 

“He awoke soon after, sir. My apologies.” 

Bucky sighed and headed back into the kitchen, determined to make his french toast despite the overwhelming urge to put Clint through the drywall. 

“It ain’t your fault. Now, where the hell are the mixing bowls again?” 

‘Beneath the microwave.” 

He felt himself relaxing as he cracked the eggs and mixed the milk and cinnamon together as he watched the sun climbing higher in the sky turning the horizon a beautiful shade of pink. He soon lost himself in the sun and clanking of metal on metal as he whisked and jumped when he heard someone clear their throat from behind him. 

“Sorry. Do you need any help?” Clint stood a safe distance away just incase he had underestimated Bucky’s cool down period. Bucky turned to him and sat the bowl down on the island and leaned against it, his hands grasping the edges and long dark hair falling in messy strands over his eyes. ‘Well, he didn’t throw the bowl at me, so that’s a plus.’ 

Bucky thought about the man standing in front of him. Normally he didn’t mind Barton. Clint.If he were to be honest, he actually enjoyed being around him. He was the only one who didn’t walk on eggshells around him when he had first gotten to the tower. He was fun and wasn’t afraid to make the same harsh comments toward him as he did to the others. He touched him. Nothing major. Just a hand on the shoulder or a jockular slap on the ass. He had even placed his hand over his own one night as they all watched some war movie, he didn’t remember, when he started to shake. The memories of his own horrible battles washing over him until he was sweating. He had just about lost it and ran out of the room when Clint brought him back. ‘It’s cool, bro. This part only lasts a few more minutes.’ It could just be his imagination but he might remember not letting go of Clint’s hand for the rest of the movie. 

“Sure. Cut the crust off of that bread.” He pointed a metal thumb over his shoulder.

“You don’t like the crust?” Clint came bounding into the kitchen with his empty coffee mug. 

“No. I hate it. As a kid I was lucky to get even a scrap of bread so I ate what I had to. Now that I have a choice, I’m not eating it.”

“Yeah. I was the same way.” Clint scooted his way into Bucky’s counter space wielding a small bread knife. “But I like the crust.” Bucky could almost taste the sass and couldn’t contain the small smile that crept at the edge of his mouth. 

“Well, we could keep it on and I could just cut mine off and give it to you. That way we’re not wasting food and disgusting our childhood selves.” Bucky reached for the knife but Clint pulled it just out of his reach. 

“Ha! Like I’m going to hand you a weapon. You could kill me with this.” Clint leant away from him in mock horror, placing his free hand over his heart. Bucky smirked.

“I could kill you with anything in this room.” He took a step toward the smaller man putting on his best Winter Soldier face with the added terror of a smile. He cocked his head to the side and slowly took the knife from Clint. “I think you know that.”

“Jesus, dude. You’re fucking scary in the morning.” Clint furrowed his brow, chuckling as he spoke and relinquished the knife, heading to the opposite side of the kitchen to get a frying pan. “Do we need to grease these things?”

Bucky frowned and shrugged his shoulders. 

“Hey, Jarvis?”

“Yes, Mr. Barton?”

“Do these pans need to be greased? It’s for french toast.”

“I’m aware of what you’re preparing, Mr. Barton. No. Those are non-stick pans and there is no need to prep them in any way.”

Clint flashed a dirty look in the direction of the control panel, shaking his head as he mocked the A.I. Bucky couldn’t stop the laugh that was soon resounding through the kitchen. It only got worse when he looked up at Clint and saw the look of exaggerated pain on his face.

“Don’t laugh at me!” He placed the frying pan on the stove and stomped his way over to where Bucky stood doubled over, knife still clutched in one hand and his side in the other. He stopped in front of him and spread his legs, putting his hands on his hips and looking for all the world like a pissed off housewife. 

“You, got lip, from a robot!” Bucky choked the words out as he dropped the knife on the counter, regaining his breath. 

“Yeah, so. Tony programed him to be a dick to me. It’s so I never miss him when he’s gone. It just mean’s he loves me.” Clint squared his chin and looked the laughing ex-assassin in the eyes, trying his best to look serious and failing miserably. They both spent another few minutes laughing and gasping for breath against the kitchen island.

“Why am I laughing, again?” Bucky wiped tears away on the back of his right hand. 

“Cause you’re an asshole.” Clint ran his hand along Bucky’s back as he made his way to the oven with the bowl of eggs and loaf of bread. “Now are we going to make this damn french toast or not? I’m starving.”

Bucky watched as the archer shuffled to the stove taking complete control of his breakfast. He should have been furious with him for coming in and pushing him out of the way as if he were a child, but he wasn’t. He was smiling as he watched the blonde meticulously preparing his food, humming the same song he had sung earlier in the face of possible death by sleep-deprived super soldier. ‘This guy is nuts’, he thought to himself walking over to help and remembering the feeling of Clint’s hand on his back.


	2. Halloween

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint and Tony explain Halloween to Thor. Of course they have to have a Halloween party.

Holidays and birthdays seemed to be a major aspect in the (now Avengers) tower. It was only about a week after Bucky had awoke to find Clint sitting half naked on the kitchen counter that Halloween rolled around. Unfortunately some major catastrophe had sent them way to some island near Germany and they missed the holiday, leaving Clint and Tony pretty broken up. After they had filled Thor in on the wonders of costumes and free candy, and the fact that they had missed out of the spooky affair, he nothing short of demanded that they celebrate the holiday regardless.

“We shall have our own festival!” He rose from the dining room table looking just as Godly in ripped jeans and a baggy T-shirt as he did in his Asgardian armor. 

“Hell yeah!” Clint and Tony whooped and ran out of the room to begin the preparations for their belated Halloween party, leaving Bruce and Natasha exchanging identical glances of despair. Steve nudged Bucky’s leg under the table gesturing toward the somber couple. 

“What’s wrong?” Steve asked with a hint of worry in his voice. Natasha smiled ryley as Bruce let out a small ‘Hmmm” and stared at a very confused Bucky. 

“You two should probably start thinking about costume ideas.” Natasha stood and left the room in the direction of the elevators. Bruce followed closely behind her, his head in his hand, no doubt trying to rub away an inevitable headache. 

Steve nodded his head toward the sitting room. “We should probably see what we’re in for, Buck.” He grasped his best friend’s shoulder as they heading for the communal computer. 

“I’m down for a good goat sacrifice.” Bucky looked straight faced into Steve’s horrified eyes and continued walking when Steve’s pace faltered. 

“You don’t think,” the Captain’s voice was laced with dread as he lost himself in the thought of the Avengers huddled in a tight circle sacrificing a goat. Bucky laughed, ruffled his hair and flipped on the computer. 

“No, kid. I don’t think. Now let’s see what we got for costumes nowadays.”

 

The next morning they all awoke to find little orange envelopes taped to their doors. Inside was a plastic gift card and invitations plastered with stickers of cats wearing witch hats. 

‘Tonight at 8pm we will be gathering in the main ballroom on floor 15. Enclosed is a prepaid card for the local costume shop. We expect you all to be dressed and per-usu, smiling is optional but please, no guns. I’m talking to you, scary Russian assassins. Love, Tony” 

Bucky huffed a little smile and went to find Steve.

He and Steve had spent nearly two hours in the cramped costume shop picking through the piles of leftover Halloween costumes. 

“Hey! I could be Iron America!” Bucky jumped out from behind a mirror wielding a plastic replica of Cap’s shield and a lone Iron Man gauntlet on his right arm. 

“Buck, I will never forgive you.” Steve said, flinging a velvet robe over his back. In the end they settled on fairly simple vampire and mummy costumes. 

“I’m not helping you wrap yourself in those.” Bucky smirked at the rolls of tattered cotton strips that made up Steve’s costume. 

“Then I’m not saving you from Barton.” Steve smiled sideways and walked out of the shop ahead of a dumbstruck Bucky.

“What do you mean, ‘Save me from Barton’?” Steve just continued to walk, smiling and shrugging his shoulders.”Steve?” 

“Last one to the tower has to hug Natasha.” With that Steve broke out into a sprint. Bucky’s blood rushed through his head as he gritted his teeth and jumped onto the nearest fire escape. There were less people to avoid on the roof. 

 

8pm came a lot sooner then Bucky would have expected. He put on his frilly white shirt and black cape grinning at his reflection as he adjusted the false incisors. Spreading a light layer of cake make-up over his face, he eyed the blood capsules. He had spent so much of his time trying to wash the blood off of his body that it seemed almost grotesque to purposely put more on. 

“Just a little. To make Stark happy.” He dabbed a couple droplets along the corners of his mouth and gave a theatrical hiss at his reflection in the mirror, hands spread as if brandishing claws and he froze. The blood on the corner of his mouth dripped slowly down his chin and, God, it looked so real. His eyes snapped closed as he turned from the mirror and shook away the looming memories of men, eyes bulging as he squeezed the life out of them. Still feeling the cracking of cartilage and bone under his fingers as he popped the arteries in their necks, blood dripping from their mouths and nose. The gasps they made, mouths working in the same way a suffocating fish would as they essentially drown in their own blood. Once a man had fought against the force of his grip so hard, his eyeball shot straight out of its socket. He remembered the way it looked, dangling from the hollow of his skull. 

The door of the elevator rang from across the hall helping to bring him back to the present. 

“Buck? You ready?” Steve called out for him and the sound of his best friends voice helped still the shaking that had begun to engulf his body. “I need your help with some of these bandages…” He stopped as Bucky walked into the room. “Jeez, Buck.”

“Pretty scary, huh?” He meant for it to sound cheerful but by the frown on his friend’s face, he knew it hadn’t had the desired effect. 

“Do you feel ok?” Steve took a step closer. 

“I’m fine. You on the other hand look like a human roll of T.P. Let me wrap your head. Don’t worry, I’ll be sure to get your mouth.” Bucky forced a smile as he walked around Steve, wrapping his head and trying his best to leave space of him to see and breath. 

The smell of caramel and liqueur hit the two super soldiers like a bomb blast as the doors to the tower’s main ballroom swung open. The floor was covered with black and orange confetti while streamers draped themselves along the entirety of the high cathedral ceiling. The only light came from the multitudes of candles that hung from chandeliers and stood in the windows and on tables that were COVERED in candies and jack-o-lanterns. On the far side of the room, Tony, who appeared to be wearing, Jesus Christ, was that a dress? And feathers?, was running a stereo system that was currently blasting “The Monster Mash”. Bucky scanned the rest of the room and found Natasha who was wearing a simple pair of cat ears, a long black dress and had managed to rub a bit of black paint on the tip of her nose, chatting with Banner who, was a hobo? He had on an unnecessarily long scarf and floppy brown hat and all too many jackets. Bucky continued to scan the crowd as he ventured over to Natasha and Bruce. He recognized a few of the guests like Sam (who was wearing a brown jumpsuit and holding what Bucky guessed was a vacuum cleaner) and Scott Lang (he wasn’t even going to attempt but he looked like he had knives taped to his hands and the worst bed head he’d ever seen) but that was about it. Steve saw Sam and waved.

“I’ll see you in a little while, Buck.” With that Steve sprinted away and Bucky sat down with Bruce and Natasha. 

“Meow.” Bucky said smiling and kissing Nat’s hand. She fawned over dramatically and laughed.

“And, are you a, homeless person?” Bucky tilted his head and eyed the metal screwdriver on the table in front of him.

“I’m The Doctor.” Bruce said, grinning shyly.

Bucky looked at him for a few more seconds. “I know, that, Dr. Banner.” Natasha snorted at his side. 

“It’s a character from an old children’s show that has recently become more popular. I will explain it in more depth some other time.” Before Bucky could answer they were all on their feet and reaching for the weapons (that they totally didn’t bring) as someone dropped on their table from a chandelier above them. 

“I am the terror, the flaps in the night!” Clint crouched in a landing position on the table, a large purple hat, matching cape and suit jacket. He had orange pantyhose and a pair of white briefs over them and no shoes. 

“Clint Barton,” Natasha began, taking a step toward the table.

“Wrong! I am DARKWING DUCK!” with that he leap off of the table and into the steadily growing crowd of party guests. Bucky couldn’t stop himself from staring at his scarcely clad backside as he ran away from them, cape billowing behind. 

“You know,” Bruce began returning to his seat, “For a super spy, you’re pretty bad at inconspicuous ass staring.”

Bucky went red under his white make-up. “What?” He said looking at the table and picking up a piece of caramel and twirling the wrapper in his fingers.

“You don’t have to play dumb with us, James. I’m the last person who can judge a person's romantic interests and Nat was trained by the best.” Bruce winked at him. 

“He really likes you, Buck.” Natasha placed her hand over his and Bruce leaned in to do the same to his cold left hand. Bucky didn’t want to be here but he didn’t pull away. 

“How do you know that?” He looked at Bruce, who smiled warmly and spoke just loud enough for Bucky to hear him over the music. “Because he spends almost every night in the heating vent above your room.” 

Bucky felt his stomach twist. ‘Clint likes me? How could he like me? They have to be wrong.’ He felt his palms begin to sweat and his pulse jump. Natasha must have felt it too because she squeezed his hand even harder. ‘Christ, I’m acting like a lovesick dame.’ 

“I need a drink.” He pushed himself away from the table and wandered to the bar. He knew it wasn’t really going to do any good but at least it would give him something to do. 

“Scotch. Neat.” The bartender handed him his glass and he nodded his thanks before walking toward the couches near the fireplace. Thor stood in the center of the couches dressed as a ringleader, his booming laughter overshadowing the small crowd around him. He held a bottle in his hand that looked oddly like absinthe. 

“Ah! Sir Barnes! You are one of the two I’ve been searching for.” Thor threw a large arm around his shoulder and gestured to the bottle. “Asgardian liquor. The good Captain always refuses but I find that it will be much less difficult of a task to convince you to partake.” 

He was about to refuse but thought about what Nat and Bruce had said. He didn’t want to think about it. He wanted to get drunk. “Yeah. I’d really like that.” 

“Excellent!” Thor poured him a large glass and left the bottle next to the couch. “I shall leave this for you. But for now, I must go.” He pulled Bucky into a bear hug and tipped his top-hat before venturing to the opposite side of the room. Bucky wasn’t sure just how long he had sat drinking, casually talking to passersby and definitely not looking for Clint around the room.’I have to pee.’ He stood up and the room spun. He giggled. ‘I’m drunk.’ He fell back onto the couch and as he did he felt someone plop down next to him. 

“Hey, Dr. Claw.” The voice was muffled and slurred as it buried itself into Bucky’s side.

“I don’t get it, and I’m not going to ask. Who are...oh.” Bucky broke off when he saw a now hat-less Clint rubbing his face into the velvet of his cape. “Hey, birdguy. What are you doing?” He was endlessly grateful for the head full of Asgardian super booze. 

“Mmm...cuddling?” Clint looked up at Bucky, his eyes seemed to swim in his head. ‘Swim in his head? What?’ He laughed out loud at his horrible comparisons and dropped his face into Clint’s hair. He inhaled deeply, smelling his shampoo. 

“Oh, you smell really good.” Bucky nuzzled his face deeper into Clint’s hair. 

“Thanks. I put on my special cologne in case I got drunk enough to get this close to you.” Clint wrapped a hand around Bucky’s shoulder and pulled himself up so that they were level with each other. Bucky’s heart skipped and his stomach lurched. He was way too drunk. He was hallucinating. Clint couldn’t be looking at him like that. Fuck, did he just lick his lips? Oh no, was he getting hard? Bucky lifted himself off of the couch despite the spinning in his head. 

“I have to piss.” He stumbled in the direction of the bathroom. 

“Me too!” Clint fell to his knees as he tried getting off of the couch. Bucky turned and looked at him.

“Christ, Barton.” He turned back and lifted Clint to his feet, his metal arm whirling at the strain of lifting the nearly dead weight. 

“Ughh. I think I sprained my ankle.” Clint frowned and looked up at the pale faced assassin. “Can you carry me?” He put on his best puppy dog eyes and rubbed his face against Bucky’s right arm. He felt his stomach twist in on itself again.  
“Yeah.” He lifted Clint, bridal style at walked them to the bathrooms.

“Actually, I don’t want to use these bathrooms. Too dirty. You’re room is the closest, right? Can we go there?” Clint nuzzled Bucky’s shoulder the same way a child would to it’s mom. Bucky nearly lost his balance as his knees buckled. 

“Yeah.” He let out a shaky breath and headed in the direction of the elevators. 

“Hey, Metal Gear!” Tony ran up behind him, spilling his drink as he slid to a stop. “There are condoms in the drawer above the toilet. Lube too. Just ring if you need more!” Bucky swallowed roughly and pushed his way into the elevator and slamming his hip on the ‘Close door’ button and Clint rubbed his face along Bucky’s neck. 

“Hey, Clint.” His voice was quiet and his breathing was forced.

“Yeah?” The response was whispered against his ear and Bucky had to choke down the whine that nearly escaped his throat. 

“Do you..do you, like me?” He looked straight at the elevator doors and waited, heart pounding for Clint’s response. It never came. He looked down at the purple caped man in his arms. He was totally and completely passed out. Bucky groaned in exasperation. 

“Why now?” He shuffled to his room and laid the blonde down on his bed, pulling off the cape and suit jacket but leaving the pantyhose. Clint groaned at the lack of contact but Bucky lifted him once again and threw back the covers, laying him down in his bed. “Goodnight Clint.” Bucky lifted his right hand and brushed it along his cheek before leaning down and placing a delicate kiss on his forehead. “You don’t have to sleep in the air ducts tonight.” He went to the bathroom and washed off his face, continuously glancing back at the sleeping archer. God he wanted to crawl into bed next to him, wrap his arms around him and just hold on. He shook the thought out of his head and grabbed the spare blanket and headed for the couch.


	3. Hearing aids and Hydra Agents

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's all fun and games until someone has a mental breakdown in Avengers tower. At least it wasn't Bruce this time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for nervous breakdown and memories of torture. I promise the next chapter will be nice and cuddly. Maybe a bit more than cuddly. >.>

The room was black. Was it night-time? Bucky couldn’t tell. He opened his eyes and yet still all he saw was darkness stretching endlessly around him. He tried to move his arms. No luck. He knew this feeling. He knew where he was. ‘No, no. I’m not there anymore. No, Steve. Steve saved me! Steve!’ He screamed through the gag in his mouth, long forgotten panic uncharacteristically seeping into his joints, making him thrash against the binds. ‘HELP!’ It was no use. Pierce? No. It had all been a dream. A fucked up illusion as his body stood frozen, awaiting his next mission. His next victim. ‘Just do it, Barnes. Take the gun. Put in in your mouth. Pull. It will be over.’ And then suddenly, he could breath, the sharp metallic air hitting his tongue and burning his nostrils. He was standing and speaking. What was he saying? It wasn’t him strapped to the chair, receiving orders, straining to hold onto even the smallest sliver of who you are as the current wiped your brain clean. A fresh slate. He heard himself as he walked toward the chair, smiling at the fact that it wasn’t him. The light’s had begun to switch on as he walked, starting from the back and working their way toward the chair holding the whimpering man. Bucky didn’t look at him, just keep saying this man's trigger words. Not his. It wasn’t him. It was the last word. The last and only chance to stop. But he didn’t. No, not after they had tied him down for years. Someone had to pay for his pain. 

“Стрела”

The last light flickered on as the man hung his head, blonde hair plastered down by sweat and dirt. He lifted it and looked at Bucky with tear-stained cheeks and bloodshot eyes. His voice was broken as he replied, 

“Готов к соблюдать”

Bucky jolted upright on the couch. He had no idea where he was. He’d never been to this part of the compound. They never let him go anywhere other than his small concrete cell when they needed him for training exercises. This, couch? He needed to get out of there. Clint. Oh, God. He had left Clint. He triggered Clint. Bucky was running for the elevators, blindly jabbing buttons as tears began to run down his face. 

“No, no no no. Clint!” The doors closed and Bucky punched at the side, denting the metal and screamed. 

“Mr. Barnes? Do you need assistance? Shall I call Dr. Banner?” Jarvis was triggered at sudden spike in temperature as Bucky paced and sobbed through gritted teeth. 

“Who are you?! He stared into the empty air and started to shake. Oh, fuck. No. Had they implanted something in his ear? A microchip? He had been so sorry for losing the last com. He had taken his beating for his arrogance in the field but maybe it wasn’t enough. HYDRA never really cared about what they put in his body. The elevator began to descend more quickly now, the momentum making his stomach drop as if he were in free-fall. What if this was another punishment? What if they were going to make him watch as the beat the life out of Clint? What if they made him do it? The elevator slowed. 

“Mr. Barnes, I have informed Mr. Stark of your arrival.” The voice spoke inside his head once again. Stark? Howard? Had they gotten Howard? No. No, that was impossible. Stark. Stark. He tore at the elevator doors as they began to open. The smell of metal and oil and machinery engulfed him, making him gag. This was it. Two men were running toward him with something in their hands. Electric prods? Was he going to have to electrocute Clint? He choked at the thought and his stomach lurched.

“Oh, no you don’t.” One of the men grabbed him by the arm and lead him to a large wash bin next to scraps of, oh god, were those arms? He lent over just in time as everything he had eaten for what seemed to be the last year spilled into the bin. ‘I’m going to pay for this.’ He heaved once again and felt a hand along the back of his neck, holding his hair away from his face. ‘They don’t want to have to hose me down around all of these electronics. I’m so stupid. Clint. Clint is down here.’ He spun around to face the shorter man. 

“Woah, Buck. What’s going on.” Tony ripped a clean shop rag from the wall and wiped at Bucky’s mouth. He was trembling as another gasped sob escaped his lips. 

“I’m sorry.” His throat burning as he bowed his head, holding his hands out flat palmed in front of him as if to be handcuffed. “I’m ready to comply.” The shorter man placed a finger under his chin and lifted it so they were face to face. His eyes creased in worry. ‘They must have been testing me. I must have failed. Where is Clint?’ Scanning the room he noticed the other man now, long white lab coat and a small bag of medical supplies were being laid out in front of him. 

“Bucky?” Tony asked questioningly. “Do you know where you are, buddy? Can you use English?”

‘Buddy? He must have misheard his name. English? He learned never to slip and use American language around HYDRA. This was a test. This man looked so familiar. HYDRA didn't call him 'Bucky'. He knew this man. He knew that man would never hurt him, but why did he know that? He better answer anyways.’ “HYDRA Cryogenics and Training Facility, Siberia, Russia.” That was wrong. The man looked worried. Maybe he should speak English. This man was. Was every wrong answer he gave going to inflict something on Clint? He thought of the small archer, palms flat, chained to a table and having hot needles jammed under his fingernails. Of cutting the soles of his feet and forcing him to walk through mounds of salt and rubbish. He remembered what they had done to him. His body went numb.

“Bruce, run and grab a couple towels from the storage cupboard.” The man’s voice was soft and it helped ease a bit of the shaking that was racking his body. But why did he need towels? Was he planning on spraying him down despite the beeping machines? He legs suddenly felt chilled. He looked down at his now soaked jogging pants. Bucky’s eyes shot back to Tony’s who placed a hand on his chest and smoothed it along the front of his t-shirt. 

“It’s ok, Buck. It’s cool. It happens down here a lot more than you would expect. Let’s go sit down. Hey, Jarvis?”

“Yes, sir?” It was the same voice from the elevator. So it wasn’t in his head. He eased a bit at this but gasped as he heard the man’s next words.

“Where is Barton? Is he ok?”

“Mr. Barton is currently asleep in Mr. Barnes’ bedroom Shall I wake him?”

“Yes. Tell him that Bucky is having a bit of a nervous breakdown and he needs to get his ass here, like, 10 minutes ago.” 

Bucky heard his name. Barton. Clint Barton. He was here. Oh, god they were going to get him. It’s happening. It’s happening now. Fuck his punishment.

“Clint.” He choked out the word in perfect English. 

 

“Mr. Barton?” Jarvis’s fuzzy British accent broke through the silence of the now fully lite room. 

“Ughhh..Fuck off, Jarvis.” He buried his face deeper into the pillow. 

“You are requested in the basement. Mr. Barnes is having a breakdown and your assistance is greatly needed.”

Clint didn’t even waste time grabbing his shirt as he ran toward the elevator in his orange pantyhose. ‘Shit, shit, shit. Oh, Buck. You psychotic bastard. He remembered his own day’s after Loki. How he would wake up positive that he had killed someone while he slept. He thought of Bucky, alone in the dark with nothing but the memories of blood and gunpowder burned into his nose. He swallowed hard as the doors to the elevator shut and he saw the dent in the metal. 

The elevator dinged and Clint scanned the room, quickly finding Bruce and Tony crouched over Bucky, hands attempting to comfort him as he shook and gasped. 

“Holy shit, Buck.” Clint ran over to the three men and knelt in front of his friend. Bucky let out a heart wrenching sob and looked to Tony. 

“Sir?” His eyes glazed over with another bout of tears.

“It’s ok.” Tony almost whispered. 

Bucky reached out to touch the side of Clint’s face but stopped short, eyes growing wide with horror. He muttered something, switching back to Russian, face contorting with pain as the tears broke and dripped onto the concrete of Tony’s workshop. 

He saw the coms in Clint’s ears. He knew he was right. They had tied Clint down to the chair, pulsed electric currents through his head until all he could remember was the target. The pain of cracking teeth that first few rounds. The cold, empty feeling in your stomach as you await the next mission, the only thing you know.

“What is he saying, Clint?” Bruce ran a hand through Bucky’s sweat soaked hair. 

“He think’s my hearing aids are HYDRA coms. He thinks I’m a soldier.” Clint’s voice was quiet and he watched the sobs quickly turning into hyperventilation.

“Clint, we’ve got to calm him down or he could pass out and that will really not help matters.” Bruce prepared a syringe. “This is a mild sedative. Well, mild for him. Bucky? I’m going to give you a shot, ok?” 

He didn’t hear the doctor. His mind was focused only on Clint and the coms pumping commands into his head like they once did to him. ‘I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t know it was you. I wouldn’t have said it. God, I’m sorry Clint. Please forgive me.’

Clint watched as Bucky shook and mumbled. ‘I’ve got a spare.’ And he ripped both hearing aids out of his ears, and put them in Bucky’s left hand. 

“Destroy them, Buck. Destroy them and they can’t hurt us anymore. We can go upstairs and shower and lay in bed and everything will be ok.” Bucky looked to Tony.

“You heard the man. HYDRA are a bunch of little bitches. Crush those coms and you’re free.” Tony nudged his hand and Bucky squeezed. As he did Bruce slid the needle into his arm and watched as bits of Clint’s hearing aids fell to the ground. 

“Free.” He whispered and looked into the faces of the men around him as they each rested a hand on the closest part of him they could. 

They stayed like that for a while as Bucky felt the sedative course through his veins. He couldn’t really remember what had happened, but he knew he had made an ass of himself. 

“I’m sorry.” He breathed looking at the mess he had made in Tony’s workshop. 

“There’s nothing to be sorry about.” Clint grabbed Bucky’s hand and stroked his thumb over his knuckles. 

“If there’s anything we know how to handle in this house, it’s the occasional mental breakdown. Especially me.” Tony stood up and spoke into the air. “Jarvis, code 6d.” He smirked and reached both hands out for Clint and Bucky, pulling them to their feet. “Now, please, both of you go upstairs and shower. Barton, read my lips, if you let him out of your sight, I’ll kill you.” He turned to leave as Dummy rolled in with a mop and bucket, Bruce following closely at his heels.

“Come on. Let’s go back to my room. I can’t read your lips in the dark and we need to talk. But first, a nice loooong hot bath. With bubbles. Lots of bubbles.” Clint grabbed Bucky’s hand and lead them both upstairs.


	4. Bath Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint tells Bucky exactly why he wants him to take a bath. It's not just because he smells, but you know. That's part of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sexy times.

They both stared straight ahead as the elevator rose to the apartment levels of the tower. Bucky tried running everything back through his head. The dream, he was in the room, Clint was there. He did something and Tony showed up? He pissed himself. ‘Fuck, I’m an idiot.’ Clint had held his hand. ‘Why did he have to do that? Why can’t he just go and find someone else to torture. Just, let me be miserable in peace. His hands are so soft. How are they that soft? Fuck me.’ 

Clint breathed in through his nose and slumped his shoulders, hanging his head as he exhaled.

Bucky rose his left hand, hesitant to touch him but luckily he didn’t have to since Clint was apparently already staring at the side of his head. “You don’t have to stay with me. I’m not going to go anywhere and I promise I won’t hurt myself. I don’t need a babysitter.” 

“Ha!” His eyebrows furrowed in sarcastic laughter. “Really?” He looked down his nose and turned to face forward. “You heard Stark. He’ll kill me. Plus, you DO need a babysitter. A Bucky sitter.” 

He didn’t care anymore. He just wanted to get out of these clothes and away from Clint where he could try and regain some of the dignity he lost in the workshop. The doors opened on Clint’s floor. 

“We don’t have to stay here. It’s probably best if you’re in a familiar environment so let me just grab my shit and we’ll go to your place.” He stood in the sitting room and watched Clint bound into the apartment. It was pretty much the exact same as his except the walls were a pale lavender with darker violet and black trimming instead of the deep red and grays of his. Tony had a thing about their costumes. Poor Steve had flag valences in his apartment. He’d been staying out at Sam’s more often than not in recent weeks so Bucky assumed it didn’t really matter much. He heard a loud thump come from the direction of Clint’s room as what sounded like a large book fell from a shelf. He’d know where to find him, why should he wait. He turned to the elevator and was just about to hit the ‘UP’ arrow when something orange shot across the room and stuck to the metal frame of the door. Bucky turned quickly in surprise and saw Clint, standing in the doorway to the sitting room with a Nerf gun and a little overnight bag slung over his shoulder. He had changed into that ridiculously old robe and a stained t-shirt and somehow still managed to be one of the most beautiful things Bucky had ever seen.

“No.” Clint threw the gun onto the couch and went to join Bucky in front of the elevator. “Why do you want to run away from me, huh?” Bucky froze and crinkled his brow, straining at the urge to throw himself at the blonde and just hold him. He swallowed the knot in his throat and silently thanked God as the doors chimed. 

 

He headed straight for his bedroom and nearly growled as Clint ran past him and into the bathroom. 

“Bath! A bath will make you feel better. And smell better. Christ, dude.You smell like a toddler after a birthday party.” Bucky lowered his eyes at him as he started to fill up the tub, which to be honest, had never been used because Bucky just felt like it was a waste of water to fill up a bathtub the size of a small swimming pool. Clint looked up and shrugged his shoulders. “You know. Like piss, puke and candy.” 

“Thank you, Barton.” He felt his cheeks skipping pink altogether and going straight to red. Clint patted him on the shoulder and walked out of the room sticking his foot in front of the door before Bucky could slam it shut.

“Hey. You could try and drown yourself. Door open or I’m taking your shoelaces, McMurphy.” 

Bucky quickly stripped and stepped down into the hot water. He couldn’t help the soft moan that escaped his lips as the water enveloped his body. It was hot enough to turn his skin pink, but not burn, sitting just on the cusp of pain. It was perfect and he let his eyes slip shut as the bubbles danced over his chest. He didn’t notice when Clint re-entered the bathroom and jumped as he spoke, splashing himself in the face. 

“You look good when you’re not trying to beat the shit out of me.” Clint lent against the sink, robe open and, fuck, absolutely nothing underneath. Bucky didn’t respond, only stared in shock, quickly blinking and looking away ignoring the familiar heat building in his stomach. 

“Barton, what the hell are you doing?” He tried to sound annoyed but knew without a doubt that he was failing as Clint sauntered forward putting his hands in the pockets of his robe, grinning like the goddamn Cheshire cat. 

“You seem a little jumpy, Barnes. What’s up?” Clint took off his robe and hung it on the peg next to the sink looking as casually as he would hanging up a jacket at a nightclub. Bucky stared at his ass, watching the shift of muscles as he lifted his arms. Clint caught him as he turned back around and Bucky squeezed his eyes closed, frowning. 

“Why are you, naked?” 

“Well, I’m not taking a bath with my clothes on.” He walked to the edge of the tub and put his hands on his hips. “There’s enough room for like, 4 people in there. Don’t be selfish.”

Bucky hesitated but reluctantly moved to the opposite side of the tub allowing Clint to step in. There really was enough room for at least two more people hence the reason Bucky stiffened in fear when Clint’s foot unexpectedly grazed along the inside of his thigh. Clint ignored it all together and continued working his toes up Bucky’s leg. His stomach twisted and he couldn’t breath. ‘Oh god. Fuck. What do I do. Stay still? Ignore it? He’s not going to miss that.’ Bucky stared at Clint and ‘Please, let this be real.’ He he gasped as Clint’s foot stopped just at the base of his cock, which was now (regardless of it’s owners reactions) fully acknowledging the archer’s presence. 

“Tell me if you want me to stop.” Clint’s voice was soft, waiting for Bucky to regain his thoughts. 

Bucky didn’t want him to stop. He wanted him to keep moving. He wanted to pounce through the water and attach himself to the perfectly formed man in front of him. His face was uncharacteristically innocent as he waited for Bucky to say ‘yes’. It only made him want it more. No one but Steve had ever given a shit about whether or not he wanted something. Bucky’s dick strained upwards encouraged by the heat of the water and slight pressure Clint applied every few seconds as if trying to massage the answer out of him. His body was screaming at him to say ‘keep going’. But he’d learned not to listen to his dick. 

“I don’t want you to stop. But,” he sighed and Clint’s face dropped slightly. “But I ain’t down for pity fucks either.” Clint jerked his foot away and sat up. Bucky’s heart jolted as he watched Clint push himself away from the side of the tub and leaned forwards, crossing his arms. 

“Ok. So, this might not be the most appropriate time to tell you all of this considering you going crazy like two hours ago and my dick being harder than the Washington Monument, but this would be the furthest thing from a pity fuck. I’m probably incredibly sick for using this as an excuse to finally get you into bed but I’ve wanted this for a long time. I mean like, about a week after you got here. I just thought you were hot then but now I, I don’t know. I like you. Like, I like who you are. I like pissing you off because I know that even after you punch me in the face I’ll still see you smile at least once before you do it again and that is awesome. You make me feel like I did when I was a kid. I want to do more than put my hand on your shoulder during movie night. I want to, cuddle. I want to make out in corners like Tony and Bruce and I want to kick your ass in Mario-Cart so you’ll get mad and we can have awesome make up sex.”

Bucky was dumbstruck. ‘I guess Nat and Bruce weren't lying.’ Apparently he had been staring at Clint longer than he had thought. 

“I’m sorry, Buck. I’m an idiot. I’ll leave you alone.” He started lifting himself out of the tub as Bucky reached out and grabbed his arm. 

“No. I was just processing all of that. Come here.” Bucky led him back, pulling him gently down into his lap. Clint shivered as Bucky ran his hands up his sides and laid them on the sides of his face. He leaned into his metal hand, the heat of the water warming it and Clint sighed at it’s touch. “You’re beautiful.” Bucky smiled, his heart jumping into his throat at the way Clint’s blue eyes mirrored his smile. Without a second thought, he pulled them together and brushed his lips against Clint’s cheek. “You, wanna be my fella?” 

Clint giggled. “Your fella. That’s absolutely what I want.” And with that Clint pressed his lips to Bucky’s. It was anything but slow and romantic, both struggling for dominance as water sloshed out of the sides of the tub at their frantic attempts to move their bodies ever closer. It was Bucky who broke off first. 

“Bed. Now.” Clint nodded and grabbed for a towel. Bucky watched as he rose out of the water and pulled the plug for the drain. He followed closed behind but stopped as Clint jumped face first into a pile of pillows and blankets just like a small child would, excitement lighting up his face. The dark haired man watched as he rolled onto his back, sitting up on his elbows. 

“Buck? We gonna fuck?” Clint tilted his head as Bucky reached down with one flesh hand and stroked himself slowly. “Oh.” Clint stared at the, older? man. 

“Touch yourself for me.” Bucky’s voice heavy. Clint rose a hand in a salute.

“Yes, Sergeant.” He ran a large hand down the length of his body, stopping at the sparse trail of blonde hair leading to his cock and twisting it between his fingers. Bucky groaned when he finally wrapped hand around himself. 

“Come here. Get on your knees.” Clint hurried over to where Bucky stood and wrapped his arms around him, pressing their bodies close and rolling his hips producing a low, breathy moan from the ex-soldier. Bucky bit down softly on Clint’s lower lip before flicking his tongue inside of Clint’s open mouth. Once again it was Bucky who broke off the kiss. 

“I said, blow me, Barton.” Clint dropped to his knees as if he were shot. He looked up at Bucky with a wicked grin. 

“I’m gonna suck off the Winter Soldier. Dude, that’s fucking awesome.” He chuckled but was cut short when a metal hand grasped the back of his head, twisting a fist full of blonde hair just hard enough to make his point. Clint took the hint and licked a broad stripe along the underside of Bucky’s cock before gently sucking the head into his mouth. A sharp intake of breath from above encouraged him to go further, hollowing his cheeks as he worked his way down. He could feel Bucky’s hips beginning to shift ever so slightly and his grip in his hair tightened and he backed off, listening to the panting above him and running his tongue softly along the inside of his thighs. When he decided enough time had passed he went back to work, this time only getting as far as one full rotation before a soft moan send vibrations through his throat and Bucky pulled him away.

“Gonna cum if you keep going.” Clint looked up with an expression that clearly stated ‘Duh.’ and Bucky held his grasp on Clint’s head. 

“So? We’ve got all the time in the world.” He emphasized his point by licking away the precum that slowly dripping from the head of his dick and pooling on the ground in front of them.  
“Ok. Ok, yeah.” Bucky relinquished his grasp on Clint’s head and within a few seconds was groaning and cumming hard down the back of his throat. Clint swallowed quickly and licked the few remaining drops away as Bucky caught his breath, stroking absently at the back of Clint’s head. 

“Go get on the bed.” Bucky watched breathlessly as Clint dutifully did as he was told. “What do you want?” 

Clint thought for a few seconds before reaching a hand out toward the edge of the bed. “You.” 

Bucky climbed on the bed and positioned himself above Clint, who immediately thrust upwards, searching for any kind of friction.

“But, like, hurry.” He whined as Bucky rolled their hips together, his super soldier stamina making itself apparent as their cocks brushed together. Bucky sat up, straddling Clint’s hips and grasped them both in a sure grip, spitting unceremoniously into his metal hand and holding it in front of Clint’s mouth who repeated the gesture. Bucky switched hands, their spit mixing and sliding against the metal of his left hand slicking them both as Bucky moved rhythmically. Clint’s breathing quickened and Bucky felt his cock twitching against his own. 

“Oh, Buck. Fuck, I’m close.” Clint thrust his hips upwards into Bucky’s hand, his head thrown back into the mattress. Bucky stared down at the blonde, panting and eyes clenched. Bucky felt the second he came, eyes opening and pulling him down into a bruising kiss, his cock pulsing harshly between them. Bucky rolled off of Clint and ran a hand over his stomach, smiling despite the mess. Clint rolled on his side, burying his face just below the metal of his shoulder and humming in contentment. 

“You’re my fella.” Clint said, smiling and Bucky wrapped his arm around him, pulling him in tight and kissing the top of his head. 

“Yup.”


End file.
